Running Home

Running Home, a post-"Living" "Slice of Life"

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Howie/Chris

Disclaimer: The young men who comprise the Backstreet Boys and *NSYNC are their own people. The author has not met anyone here described, nor does the author mean to suggest that these people act this way in real life. This writing is a work of fiction. I make no money from this venture.

Notice: This story is pointless schmoop.

Chris closed his eyes, waiting for the words to sink in. But there was no sinking. He couldn’t accept this news into his reality. Some things were too horrible, too unthinkable, to be accepted. This couldn’t be true; this couldn’t be happening.

“Chris-”

“No,” he said, gripping the phone tighter. “No.”

“Chris,” Howie said again, gently insistent.

“Why?” Chris asked, wondering how Howie could do this to him. After everything, didn’t Howie know how he felt? How could Howie do this? Without even talking to him about it? He could have talked Howie out of it, he could have convinced Howie to wait, he could have done something about it. Now it was too late.

The horrible, terrible deed was done.

Howie had cut his hair.

“I thought that it was time for a change,” Howie said.

“Change?!” Chris demanded, getting out of his bunk, needing more ranting room. “Change?! This isn’t change, this is devastation! This is trauma! This is betrayal!”

“I can’t look the same forever,” Howie said.

“Was looking incredibly gorgeous getting old?” Chris demanded. “Whose idea was this? Did somebody talk you into this?” he asked sharply, suspicious.

“It was my idea,” Howie said. “AJ went with me, he-”

“Aha!” Chris shouted. Joey was looking at him oddly; he ignored it. “He’s to blame!”

“It was my idea,” Howie said clearly.

“How much is gone?” Chris asked. “What’s left? You’re not bald, are you? You don’t have a buzz cut,” he said, horrified by the idea.

“It’s…shorter,” Howie said. “Not as short as it used to be, but short. I can send you a picture-”

“No,” Chris said immediately. “No, I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to look at it. You’ve betrayed me, and I will not honor that by - - are you laughing? Are you mocking my pain?! You’re laughing!”

“I’m sorry,” Howie said, having let a few chuckles slip. “I didn’t mean to laugh. I know you’re upset.”

“Upset?” Chris repeated. “I’m horrified! You must not grasp the magnitude of this situation. I can’t even talk to you anymore. This conversation is over. And don’t even think about sending me any pictures of this atrocity.”

“Chris,” Howie said.

“Good day to you,” Chris said, and hung up.

“What’s wrong?” Justin asked behind him.

“Life,” Chris said, “as I know it,” pause for dramatic effect, “is over.”

Lance found pictures on the Internet and offered him a look. Chris refused.

JC said that Howie looked great. Chris was not mollified.

Of course Howie looked great, Howie always looked great; Howie was a beautiful, beautiful man. His obsession with Howie’s hair hadn’t been all about the way it looked, it also had been about the way it felt. It was soft, and it was slippery-smooth, and it tangled around his fingers. Sometimes it fell into his face while they were kissing, an intimate curtain. It brushed his skin when Howie was doing things to him. It was something to stroke and toy with when they got cozy. When Howie was sucking his dick and he wrapped Howie’s hair around his fist at the base of Howie’s neck and started fucking Howie’s mouth-

And now all of that was gone? Just…gone?

He couldn’t take down Howie’s hair anymore. He couldn’t undo Howie’s ponytails to tease, or distract, or seduce. It had become one of their steps, one of their bases; when he tugged Howie’s hair free, it meant that he was ready to move on to bigger and better things. Howie liked it, he knew that Howie liked it, it was one of the many things that anyone else would find irritating but that Howie loved.

Howie’s hair was, if not a sex organ, at least a tool of seduction.

But Howie was still Howie, no matter what he looked like. And he probably mostly looked the same, anyway. He still had that pretty smile, and those pretty eyes, and that incredible body. He’d sounded the same on the phone. Chris was still desperately in love with him.

Sex would be different. Chris might have to find new places to put his hands. But that wasn’t bad. Not bad at all. He liked putting his hands on Howie. All of that smooth skin, that rippling muscle, that, yeah…

Good times, good times.

Chris dialed.

“Hello?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to do it before you did it?”

“Chris, my love. I knew you’d try to talk me out of it. I didn’t want to tell you about it, and then have you ask me not to do it, and then either have to give in to you or go against your wishes. If I waited to tell you until after it had been done, there was nothing you could do about it.”

“It’s your body, it’s your decision, but it’s such a big decision,” Chris said. “You couldn’t just ask for my opinion?”

“You didn’t ask for my opinion before you tat-

“Hey, that’s personal,” Chris said. “That’s none of your business.” He rubbed one hand over the side of his neck. “How do you look, still gorgeous?”

“Everyone seems to like it,” Howie said. “Brian says I look more mature, AJ says I look hot, Nick keeps touching it.”

Asshole. Chris didn’t want other people’s hands all over his Howie. But it was a good sign. “I’m still upset, but I’m going to be mature and get over it. I support you in all of your decisions. I stand by you in all of your choices. Even the horrible ones.”

“Thank you,” Howie said. Chris knew that he was smiling. “I hope that someday we can get past this.”

“I’ll learn to forgive,” Chris said. “Someday. You didn’t dye it orange, did you?”

“No,” Howie said. “The color’s natural, it’s just shorter.”

“You didn’t have to say it out loud,” Chris said. “Go ahead, pour salt in the wound, I don’t mind.”

“Chris,” Howie said. “My Chris, my love. I look fine. When you see me, if you really hate it, and you really can’t stand to look at me, we’ll talk about it.”

Chris tried to think of a scenario where he wouldn’t be able to look at Howie. He couldn’t come up with one.

Chris found JC in the green room. “How did you manage to recover when Justin went bald? You had a lot invested in that whole ‘fro thing.”

JC smiled. “I found new things to love about his new style.”

“Like what?” Chris asked skeptically, as Justin walked over to join them.

“He looks older, and I like that,” JC said, sliding an arm around Justin’s waist. “I like the way it feels to touch. I like being able to lick his hairline. I like-”

“See, there’s a fine line between sharing and giving out too much information, and you always manage to find that line and then jump right over it,” Chris said. JC smiled.

“Why are we talking about me?” Justin asked.

“We’re talking about your haircut,” Chris said.

“Is this about Howie?” Justin asked. “I saw the pictures, and he looks great. He looks…hot?” he asked JC.

“Gorgeous,” JC decided.

“He looks gorgeous,” Justin told Chris. “Besides, you’re the last person who should be talking about anybody else’s hair.”

Chris touched his hair, wondering - - oh. He glared at Justin. “Shut up.”

“I have to see you.”

“I want to see you, too,” Howie said.

“We’ll be hitting California right before you leave out of New York,” Chris said.

“We talked about that, but there won’t be a lot of time,” Howie said. “Flying the whole way across the country and back-”

“I have to see you,” Chris said. “I can get a flight to New York as soon as I hit the airport, and I’ll be there Tuesday night.”

“My love,” Howie said. “You’ll be coming in straight from Japan, you’ll have to turn right around to get back in time for your show-”

“I’m coming,” Chris said.

“I’ll fly to L.A. to see you,” Howie said.

“And still get back in time for your flight out?” Chris asked.

“We’ll meet halfway,” Howie said. “Maybe in Chicago, or St. Louis.”

“Okay,” Chris said. He was going to see Howie. Already the wait seemed interminable. “You look gorgeous, don’t you?”

“Chris, are you going to let me send you a picture?” Howie asked.

“No,” Chris said. “I have to see you for myself, in person. No pictures. No descriptions.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” Howie said. “You’re making this a lot more important than it is.”

“I have named individual strands of your hair,” Chris said.

Howie’s laughter made his dick twitch. “I remember.”

“Maybe I’ll cut my hair,” Chris said.

“That’s up to you,” Howie said calmly.

“Shave my head, lose the goatee, shave off my eyebrows, wax my legs.”

“If you want to, go ahead.”

“Pierce my nose.”

“With a stud or a ring?”

Howie was impossible to upset. “Or maybe I’ll just pierce my dick.”

“Ouch,” Joey said.

“I wonder what that would feel like,” Howie said.

“Painful!” Chris said.

“I meant, for me,” Howie said.

What… Oh. Chris thought about it for a minute.

“It could either be really bad, or really, really good,” Howie said.

Damn it, now Chris was tempted to do it just for that. Stupid hormones.

Chris tapped his fingers on his armrest. The second the plane landed, he had to run to catch his flight to Howieville. If this plane went any slower, he’d miss everything. He was going to storm the cockpit and offer to fly the damned thing himself.

“Sit on your hands or I’ll break them off,” Lance said.

“He’s just nervous,” Justin said from across the aisle. “I don’t know what you’re worried about,” he told Chris. “If you’d just look at a picture, you’d see he looks as good as he did before. Maybe better.”

“Better,” Lance agreed.

“I like the long hair better,” Joey said from behind them.

“Joey likes long hair because Joey likes women,” Lance said.

“I like women, but I loooove you, Lance,” Joey said.

“I know,” Lance said.

“Longer or shorter better?” Justin asked JC.

“Whatever makes him happy,” JC said. “Howie’s one of those people who looks good no matter what he does.”

“Kind of like you,” Justin said with a smile.

“Yeah, kind of like me, too,” Chris said.

Lance snorted.

“Like Joey?” Chris asked.

Justin coughed.

“You wish you had this face,” Joey said. “You wish you had this body. You wish you had this-”

“Don’t whip it out!” Chris said quickly. “You’ll unbalance the plane.”

“Say hello to Howiechris for us,” Justin said. “Tell him he should visit us again sometime. I like having him on tour. It gets you out of the way.”

“You have to stop calling him that,” Lance said.

“It’s his name,” Justin said.

“I think it’s cute,” JC said.

“I think it’s scary,” Lance said.

“I think you’re jealous,” Chris said.

“I think you’re scary,” Joey said.

Everyone turned to Justin.

“Oh,” Justin said. “Didn’t I already go?”

“No, JC started it,” Chris said.

“Then I think I’ll call him whatever I want to call him,” Justin said. “I think it’s cool that you changed your names in your own way. And I think the plane’s about to land.”

Chris got to the hotel first, and spent twenty minutes roaming the penthouse, fiddling, fidgeting. He hadn’t had sex in way too long. The urge to hump something was growing dangerously strong. He should’ve been smart like everybody else and hooked up with someone he could actually be on tour with. They were all getting laid whenever they wanted. He got laid whenever the planets chose to align.

He wondered what Howie’s hair looked like now. He wondered if it still smelled good. He wondered if they could have sex first and talk later.

When he heard a knock at the door, Chris jumped and ran. Howie, it was Howie! He jerked open the door and grabbed Howie by the arm and dragged Howie into the room, closing the door and kissing Howie’s soft, warm mouth.

Howie kissed him back, taking, assertive, pushing him back into the door and holding him there with one hand on his shoulder, one hand on his hip. Making insistent, aroused sounds, Howie began to grind against him, making him moan, making him harder, the hand on his shoulder sliding down his chest and stroking him through his shirt.

Chris couldn’t take it, needed this so badly he couldn’t break away for air. He groaned at the tight rocking of Howie’s hips, raising his hands to - - there was no hair there, no ponytail, and that was so wrong it hurt. His fingers brushed soft ends of hair and he investigated, sliding his fingers through it, moaning with pleasure into Howie’s aggressive kiss and burying his fingers in thick, soft waves.

God, this was good, this was just what he’d needed, he had to fuck Howie now or he’d lose his mind. Howie probably wanted to fuck him, too, and that was good, that was fine, he was happy to help but he had to fuck Howie first or he’d explode. “God, Howie…”

“Where’s the bedroom?” Howie asked, barely giving Chris a chance to inhale before going right back in for more, his tongue sleek and fucking, his moans of pleasure and need breathing heat into Chris’s blood.

Chris opened his eyes to locate the bedroom, breaking the kiss to give his mind a chance to work. His gaze refused to leave Howie’s dark, sexy eyes and soft, kissed mouth and oh.

Chris slowly slid his hands free from Howie’s hair. It was soft, and thick, all layered and wavy. It looked like it probably took work to make it look like that, but it invited his touch, and he ran his fingers through it again, unable to resist. He leaned in, and mmm, it smelled good, and mmm… There was no more curtain of hair to sweep back, but Howie’s neck was right there for the licking. Chris skimmed his fingers across Howie’s nape and Howie shivered right there in his arms, pursuing his mouth for a hot, tangled kiss.

Chris could learn to love this.

He thought he already might.

Sex with Howie when Howie had long hair was smoking hot. Fantasy hot. Go up in flames hot.

Sex with Howie when Howie had short hair was deep, deep fucking and a slow, complete burn. The sheets were scorched, the walls were singed, and Chris felt like even when their physical bodies were oceans apart again he and Howie would still be a part of each other.

He couldn’t breathe, but he managed to ask, “What the hell was that?”

Howie was stroking Chris’s neck with his fingers and looking unbearably gorgeous. “Did you ever notice that a new haircut can make you a new person?”

“Yes,” Chris said. “I had a hairstyle that made me an ugly, ugly person and now I’m much more of a sexified hottie.”

Howie smiled. “You could never be ugly, but you are a sexified hottie.”

He ran his fingertips through Howie’s bangs. Howie had bangs now. And less facial hair. Chris stroked Howie’s cheek. Kissed it. Licked over to Howie’s mouth.

Howie kissed him back slowly, deeply, making Chris moan from the inside out. “I want you,” Howie whispered.

Howie wanted him? Howie had him. Chris groaned, sliding his hand through Howie’s hair because it made his fingers feel good, starting to push Howie back so he could get on top and start something. Howie definitely had him. Howie had his heart, and his body, and his love, and his everything else, everything possible and a few things impossible.

“Chris,” Howie breathed, “my love,” and Howie was starting to rock against him, generating heat, raising the stakes. “Chris, fuck me.”

Chris groaned, because hearing Howie ask, knowing Howie wanted it, hearing those words from Howie’s mouth - - he licked into Howie’s mouth, spreading Howie’s thighs, wanting to give it, do it, take it. He’d never been with anyone like Howie, he’d never wanted anyone this much. They didn’t have a lot of time together, but in the time that they did have, he wanted to experience all of Howie, wanted to learn and explore. Wanted to make love until the fire went out.

Their flame was eternal.

That quiet breath of laughter, followed by Howie’s aching, pleasured groan at the stretch and push of his dick, was going to keep Chris hard for months. He’d never heard anything so arousing.

He feathered his fingers through Howie’s hair and kissed Howie’s neck. Licked Howie’s nape. Trailed his fingers across it and felt, watched Howie shiver.

He loved Howie’s new haircut.

“Howie,” he said.

“Chris,” Howie said, rolling over and blending into him. “My Chris,” he murmured, and kissed Chris gently. “My love,” he whispered, and mmm, wow, Chris wanted that treatment on his dick.

New haircut, new person. This Howie was even more sexually charged than before. Slightly less seductive, more outright assertive, even aggressive. The heat of his touch sank deep into Chris’s body. He demanded, and he gave; he was generous, and he took. Chris was left thoroughly sated, thoroughly satisfied, yet wanting Howie more than ever.

Chris had never felt closer to Howie. He couldn’t explain the feeling, didn’t fully understand it, only knew that physically, sexually, they were more connected than ever before.

When Chris had fallen in love with Howie, he hadn’t fully known Howie. There had been something enigmatic and untouchable about Howie that had captured him, that had awed him.

No matter how well he’d come to know Howie, he’d never entirely gotten over that feeling. A tiny bit of that mystery had remained.

Now it was gone. Howie wasn’t an enigma; Howie was known, open to him, close at hand and easily explored. Howie wasn’t above him; they were on the same level, equals. There were no pedestals. There were no mysteries.

Howie was just another guy. Beautiful, and amazing, and wonderful, and fully beloved. But as human as Chris, as real, as ordinary in his own ways.

Chris had loved his inspiring, bewitching, seductive Howie with the liquid eyes and the sweep of hair.

Now Chris got to love his sexual, assertive, open Howie with the laughing smile and the short, soft waves of hair that wanted to be touched.

“I think we should run away together,” Chris said. They’d gotten dressed to be ready to leave, but somehow they’d managed to sprawl across the bed anyway. Sprawling in clothes wasn’t as fun as sprawling naked, because being skin to skin with Howie was a sensation so right Chris had been known to crave it. He was mostly on top of Howie, and he kept touching Howie’s face because he was getting used to Howie with less of an actual goatee and more general stubble.

“I’d like to run away with you,” Howie said, idly touching Chris’s necklace. “Where would you like to go?”

“Home,” Chris said.

Howie smiled. “I don’t think that going home counts as running away.”

“I don’t want to run away with you,” Chris said. “I want to run home with you.”

Howie kissed him, very gently, and stroked his cheek. “Chris, my love. I want to run home with you, too. I ran here because you are my home. I don’t want to run away from anything. I love my life, I love our life. But I will always run home, I will always run to you. I’m running home to you every day. We’re running home together. Sometimes we get there faster than others. Sometimes we get to stay. But we always come running back.”

Wherever Howie was, was home. Wherever Howie was, was where he wanted to be. “You cut your hair and I didn’t know about it. You’re living your life without me, and I’m living mine without you. That’s not the way this is supposed to go. That’s not how this should be.”

“Chris.” Howie rolled them over, looking down into his face. “I would never live my life without you. You are my life. You’re part of everything I do. We share everything that we can. We’re together as often as we can be. Tours aren’t forever. And when yours is over, you’ll come to me, and we’ll be together. And when my tour’s over, we’ll go home. We’ll go home together.”

Chris rubbed his thumb over Howie’s nape, looking up into the most beautiful brown eyes he’d ever known. “I like being together. Together’s good. I think it’s a good idea for us to be together once in a while.”

“I think so, too.” Howie gave him a smile.

“I miss you, sometimes. When you’re not around,” Chris said. “It’s good to see you. You look really good. You look great. I like what you’ve done with your hair.”

Howie kissed him, just long enough to make his entire body five degrees hotter. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t pierce my dick for you.”

Howie laughed. “That’s okay.”

“You’re still the most beautiful, perfect man I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you,” Howie said, and kissed him. Trailing kisses over his cheek and back to his ear, Howie breathed, softly, “You, too, my love.”

Chris closed his arms, slid one hand up Howie’s back to bury his fingers in Howie’s hair, and it happened. He was home.

matthew@matthewtime.com